Flourescent Adolescence
by InLovingMemoryOfYouDespiteYou
Summary: Freshman year in high school, and Jack meets Mat, a girl just as messed up as him.
1. Lullaby

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**My first fanfic, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Four Brothers or _Lullaby_, by the Cure. T_T**

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**_His arms are all around me and his tongue in my eyes _**  
**_"Be still be calm be quiet now my precious boy _**  
**_Don't struggle like that or I will only love you more _**  
**_For it's much too late to get away or turn on the light _**  
**_The spiderman is having you for dinner tonight"_**

**_And the spiderman is always hungry... _**

**Jack**

"Yo, Jackie poo! Get your fairy ass out of bed. Your gonna be late for school!" Four years. Four more fucking years then I can leave this bullshit city, and move to New York or Hollywood. Somewhere the Spares can get signed. "Get out of the goddamn bed Jack!" Bobby's incessant banging on the door woke Jack from his daydreaming. "Jesus Christ, Bobby, I'm up!"

* * *

The morning droned on as any other; History, Algebra, then lunch. Jack spent the blessed twenty five minute break with his band mates; Chris (drums), Drew(bass), Ronnie (singer), and Jordan (guitar). Jack had just taken his regular seat between Chris and Jordan, when the principal, Mrs. Chase, escorted nun and a girl around his age.

She was pretty damn tall compared to all the other girls that were barely eligible to ride a roller coaster; she was roughly 5' 9". her mahogany hair was long and messy. Black coated her chewed nails and outlined her darting, hazel eyes. She had snake bites, an industrial bar in her ear, and a pound of silver on her fingers. She wore holey jeans, worn Chucks, and a Funeral For A Friend T shirt with a black thermal underneath. She looked like hell, but it worked for her - she looked like a survivor.

"I hope you don't mind my asking, Sister, but why not enroll Amata at Martin Luther King and not St. Elizabeth Ann Seton?" Inquired Mrs. Chase, only a foot or two from the boys.

"Amata did attend Seton, but she broke our rules and must faces the consequences. I'm sure you understand. I have high standards for my students and living in my orphanage we not get you special treatment." The "penguin", as Drew likes to call them, replied.

"I completely agree. Amata will be very happy here at MLK, I promise." Mrs. Chase is smiling encouragingly at the intimidating woman, yet ignoring the girl entirely.

"I should hope so." The sister turned to Amata with a warm grin on her worn face. " Good luck, my dear. And, please, be good." with that Mrs. Chase led the nun out the cafeteria doors.

* * *

**Mat**

Mat needed out of this hellhole soon. she could barely fill out all the forms in the office with the way her hands were trembling. Mat fingered her snake bites, pondering an escape route. All it would take is one little joint to make the DTs disappear. Though a bottle of Jack would be much appreciated, welcomed with open arms even, a line was out of the question. Mat had made Mother Superior a promise that she'd get sober and she would...sort of. First, Mat had cut out hardcore drugs, like Oxy, crank, H, Ecstasy, and K. Mat still smoke a little herb every day, but once she conquered Phase One, she'd wan of the bud. After Phase Two, Mat planned on detoxing from liquor, but she had her doubts. Mat had a shitload of bad habits, but drinking was by far the worst.

"BRRRING!" The bell rang, signaling Mat to put her plan into action. She shoved through flood of her peers, to the exit leading to the building next door, the gym. She had Writing 101 this period, but past the gym was the blissfully unoccupied football field. She slipped into the stadium, making her way up the steel bleachers while lighting the blunt. "Oh, God."Mat sighed in relief as a guy she vaguely recognized from lunch stepped onto the field's green grass,

"Uh, sorry. I, um, I'll leave." He stutters, obviously taken aback by hearing a girl moan as he made his entrance.

"No, there's a hundred yards of fake, green grass; that's more then enough room for the two of us. Come on, I won't bite." He took out a pack of Marlboro's and lit one. "So, do you have a name?" Mat's scrutinizing eyes looked him up and down. He was about 6 feet tall and had dirty blond bedhead. _'Gorgeous blue eyes. Nice taste, too.' _She thought, glancing down at the Motley Crue T shirt, layered with a classic leather jacket.

"Jack Mercer." He glanced up at her, took a drag on his cigarette, then shifted his gaze to his scuffed up combat boots.

"Mat Elliot. So, Jack" She waited for him to meet her eyes, taking a long drag on her joint. "You wanna get out of here?"

* * *

**Jack**

"So, you're new, right?" Jack attempted to break the awkward silence, as they crossed the street to the corner grocery Mom as ways went to. "You've got to be crazy as hell to want to go to MLK."

"Well, it's not like I have a choice in the matter. Mother Superior expelled me from Seton for beating the shit out of Nicole Tessman. Seton is filled with rich skanks, like Nicole, and orphans, such as yours truly." The two reached the store and Jack nodded to the man at the counter, who watched them with suspicion. Mat lead the way to the back wall filled with energy drinks, soda, and booze, continuing her rant. "Most of the rich sluts talk shit, but Nicole is vicious. She finds your greatest insecurity and pick at it until you crack then just keeps going. She brought an 8 year old to tears, making fun of how her mom died from childbirth and her dad didn't want her. Anyway, Mother Superior said getting fucking trashed then breaking some rich bitch's fake nose was 'unacceptable'. And here I am, high, skipping school, and stealing liquor." As Mat made this last statement, she picked out a small, glass bottle and stuck it in the front of her jeans, then covered the top with her black T shirt.

Jack's eyes widened in surprise. He'd done his fair share of drinking and stealing, but he'd never seen someone do it so openly. Jack recovered himself and fell into the same routine he ran with Bobby and sometimes Angel. He grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels for himself, then picked out a bag of salt and vinegar chips and walked over to the counter. Jack paid the clerk, and walked out the door, loving the feel of the cool, glass against his skin.

"Where to next Jack?"

"We can go to my place. My mom won't be home from work 'til 6 and my brothers won't say anything about the booze. Bobby has done worse shit before, but I still wouldn't smoke in there." Jack didn't know why he bothered to hide things from Evelyn. She already knew he smoke and drank and anything she didn't know she found out anyway. Evelyn was the only woman that ever gave a damn. She believed he could do great things and always made a point to tell him. The thought of disappointing his mom tore him up inside. The more he muled this over, the more he wanted that bottle of Jack, which only made him feel like an even bigger fuck up.

* * *

"Yo, fairy, is that you?" The minute they stepped through the thresh hold of the house Bobby came to see Jack, but was shocked to see Mat with the 'fairy'. "Well, I'll be damned. Angel! Jerimiah! Get your asses over here!"

"Bobby this is Mat, Mat this is my brother." Jack wearily introduced the two, while trying to figure out a way past Bobby, and up the steps.

"Bobby, what the hell do you want?"

"And these are my other brothers, Angel and Jerry." Mat glanced between the four of them and gave Jack a perplexed look. He returns it with a look that says 'I'll explain later'.

Ignoring their exchange, Bobby continues his teasing. "So, Mat, what are you doing with this little queer? Or did he not tell you? Sorry, but my baby sister, here is strictly dickly. Sweetheart-"

"Fuck You!" Rage coursed through Jack's viens and everything was red. Jack grabbed Mat's hand and pushed Passed Bobby, dragging Mat with him up the stairs.

"Come on, Jack. It's just a joke, I was only kidding! Bring Mat back down her and I promise, no gay jokes." But Bobby's apologywas all in vain. Jack was too pissed to give a shit and had already taking refuge with Mat in his room and in a bottle of Jack.

"I tolerate all of Bobby's bullshit, but those goddamn faggot comments-. I'm a guy, an extremely straight guy! There's nothing fucking good about being fucked by a guy. It's perverse and disgusting and-" Jack cuts off, the blood draining from his face, as he realizes what he just let slip with Mat 2 feet away, stretched out on his bed. He takes a swig from his whiskey, trying to swallow the memories, the fear, the shame. No way in hell was he going to cry in front of a girl he just met. Taking a deep breath, Jack stammers out a half assed lie, obviously flustered by a flood of emotions: anger, embarrassment, sorrow, and terror. "It's not that I've ever fucked a guy, I-I just-"

"Jack, it's okay. If your gay you can tell me, and if something worse happened, you can tell me that, too. I'm pretty damn experienced in either field and I can keep a secret, so if you want to talk..." Her voice is calm and empathetic, Mat's eyes never leave Jack as he paces and runs a frantic hand through his hair. Something about her made him think she was sincere about being 'experienced in either field'. And it would be nice to have someone other then just Ma know. These damn secrets were eatting him up in side. sooner or later, if her didn't talk, his past would destroy him. Ma was sweet but she just didn't understand it and he couldn't stand the 'poor baby' looks anymore. What the Hell, the cat was pretty much out of the bag anyway.

"First off, I'm not fucking gay, I love girls and all there glorious parts. Second, Evelyn adopted me and my brothers, but before that I bounced around between foster homes. Most, were just in it for the government check and would bitch, smack you around, shit like that, but this one piece of shit I lived with was a really sick fuck. Chuck was in his mid-forties, I was only nine fucking years old, and that twisted motherfucker called me his goddamn toy!"

* * *

_"Jackie, baby? Where've you run off to? I come back from a hard day at the office and this is the welcome I get? Where's my kiss hello? Come out, come out, where ever you are!" Jack wormed his way deep in the corner of the closet in the front hall, he had recently figured out that this was the farthest Jack could get from the bed without leaving the house, thus where he felt safest. Chuck's heavy footsteps grew louder and Jack heard the faintest creak in the wooden staircase above him. 23 agonizing footsteps later, and Jack saw Chuck's unmistakable shadow through the crack, where the beige carpet meets the only barrier between Jack and Chuck._

_Chuck placed his hand on the brass doorknob, turning slowly, breaking down the barrier. Jack was greeted with a sadistic grin and a "There you are Jackie, baby. I've been looking for you." Jack's head is taken between two fists and savagely pulled the boy to him, Chuck's unwanted tongue taking up residence in Jack's mouth. "Now don't I get a reward for finding you?" Chuck takes Jack's trembling hand and guides it to the bulge in his pants. Despite his fear, Jack could only think of one thing, '_What did I do to be tortured like this?' _"Ahh, now, come on. I deserve a better reward than this." _'I shouldn't have to live this way.'_ Chuck's meaty fists slowly unclasped the button on his navy trousers. _'I've been beaten and starved, but this is just hell.' _The zipper falls along with the dark fabric, now hugging his ankles. _'I wish it all would just end already.'_ Two firm hands grasp Jack's shoulders, yanking him the the maple floors. _'I've spent 11 months, 3 weeks, and 2 days on my knees for my dear ole foster daddy...' _Chuck shoves himself into Jack's mouth, allowing a moan to escape his lips. _'...and I'm not sticking around til Tuesday to make it a year.' _Chuck began thrusting into Jack's open jaw. _'I don't care if he kills me for this, death is preferable anyway, and I'm sick of playing the martyr.' _With that, Jack gathered all his courage and wrath and bit down with all his strength._

_"Ohhh, son of a bitch! You little shit, what the fuck do you think your doing!" Jack picks himself up of the floor only to be knocked down again, by a fist pounding into his eye and a boot to the gut. "You worthless little bitch! Can't you do anything right? I let you into my fucking house and you bite me?" Chuck snatches Jack up by the collar, slamming him into the wall. "I'm gonna make you fucking pay, then I'm gonna throw your sorry ass back into the goddamn system."_

* * *

Jack stopped the flood of memories there; he knew it ended in him bloody and on the bed, while Chuck raped him again and again. "Your the only person I've ever told, other than Ma. My brothers just know I had a fucked up childhood."

"Damn, Jackie. That's really, fucking amazing. I never stood up and said no; I just took it night after night." Mat's eyes were turned up to his with a sad sort of admiration.

"Did you mean it when you said you could relate to me?"

"I shit you not, Jackie-o. But, I'm out of vodka, and I'm not nearly drunk enough to get into all the gory, little details." Jack stared at her for a moment. He had just told her the most private part of his life, yet, he knew nothing about her.

"Hey, Jackie poo." Bobby burst through the doors, oblivious to what had just happened, only seeing a girl strewn out on his brother's bed. "Jackie, say good bye to your girlfriend. Ma's almost home and she's still got you're ass on lockdown for stealing that Les Paul from Wilsons' Guitars."

Mat rose from the blue blankets and crossed the room to Jack. She pulled him into an embrace, stretching on her toes to reach his ear, Mat whispered low enough that the eldest Mercer wouldn't hear, "I'm really sorry you had to go through that, you don't deserve it, but what you did was fucking amazing. I know I already said that, but it's true. Just look it you, now; you have a home, three brothers, and a mom that genuinely cares about you. You're a survivor, Jack, and I just thought I'd let you know." Mat gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then walked around Bobby and out the door, as Jack stood there thinking,

_This has been one hell of a day._

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**I hope you liked it. Please Review! I want to know what you think!**


	2. Fake Tales of San Francisco

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Sorry it took so long to update, i've just had so much shit going on: testing, a shitload of homework, two papers for school, and then I went to St louis ! School lets out Thursday so I'll have more time to write. Enjoy !

**Disclaimer : I do not own Four Brothers, _We Stitch These Wounds_ by Black Veil Brides, or _Fake Tales Of San Francisco_ by Arctic Monkeys**

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******Fake Tales of San Francisco  
Echo through the air  
And there's a few bored faces in the back  
All wishing they weren't there**

**And as the microphone squeaks**  
**A young girl's telephone beeps**  
**Yeah she's dashing for the exit**  
**And she's running to the streets outside**  
**"Oh you've saved me," she screams down the line**  
**"The band were fucking wank**  
**And I'm not having a nice time."**

**Jack**

Jack's long, calloused fingers strum the first chord and adrenaline surges trough his veins. The chanting crowd, the tune from the four musicians, and Ronnie's deep vocals meld into one beautiful sound and Jack is home. In every shitty foster home melodies of emotion and resistance became his anthem. Music gave him the strength to face the day, the audacity to rebel, and the will to live. The Les Paul in his hands was Jack's salvation. Before he had a home that damn guitar had been his only family.

Screaming from fans only fueled his high. Jack smoke, drank a little, and had dabbled around with drugs a few times, but he never got the same pure rush of ecstasy he experienced when he picked up Sasha. The only thing that existed that very first moment Jack touched her was the two of them and the sweet sound of Fifteen Fathoms Counting that danced off her strings as he caressed Sasha's smooth strings. Jack had never been in love and honestly, didn't believe in the whole love at first sight bullshit despite what he told girls, but if it did, he was pretty fucking sure that's how it'd feel. As far as he was concerned he had to have her even though the price tag begged to differ, but he was a Mercer and, well, when was the last time the Mercer boys were described as "law abiding citizens". That's how Sasha came to him; Jack sweet talked Sasha, the sales clerk at the time, stole the Les Paul, and named it after her. He got shit from his ma about it, but standing here, his hands dashing across the strings, made it all worth it.

Jack joined in on the chorus to the Black Veil Brides cover of "We Stitch These Wounds", then Ronnie belted out the second verse, "I think of it every time I touch you, every time I hear his name, I never let the fucking walls down, for all of this you are to blame." Jack spotted a gorgeous blond in front swaying her hips and running her hands up and down her body, all the while locking eyes with the lead guitarist, "Jack." The mystery girl calls to Jack, beckoning him forward and he complies.

"Jack! Jack Mercer! Honestly, the way you children act these days is just appalling." Jack woke up, not to the hot, curvaceous, blond but to his controlling, pain in the ass History teacher, Mrs. Eberheart. "As I was saying, Mr. Mercer, I would like you and Miss Elliott to pair up and discuss the views of both the north and south that ultimately led to the start of the Civil War. And I would appreciate it if you would quit falling asleep in my class."

"Yes, Mrs. Eberheart." Jack mumbled as she marched away. Mat had already taken the desk in front of Jack's and turned it around so she could face him.

"She can't really blame you for falling asleep. I mean, it's-" Looking at the digital clock on the wall. "-7:42 am and she's boring as fuck. Her voice alone makes me want to shoot myself. So, did you have a nice nap, Princess?"

"Fan-fucking-tastic. At least until this old bitch went and fucking woke me up. It was a good fucking dream too; my band was playing at the Mad Hatter and this hot blond there, was-"

"Jackie, I don't need to hear about your wet dream. Do you really have a band?"

"Yeah, the Spares. We've got a gig tonight, it's not quite the Mad Hatter, but not too fucking shabby. You should check us out, there'll plenty of booze and we still have shit to talk about. You ran off so quick last night we didn't get to talk about anything, but my shit and I don't know a damn thing about you."

"Right, well, we'll just have to fix that then, won't we? My full name is Amata Clare Elliott, I gave it to myself when I got to the orphanage. The nuns helped me through my confirmation and part of that is to pick a saint and I chose St. Amata of Assisi. She was an atheist or pagan or something, then some how her aunt, St. Elizabeth converted her to Catholicism and she joined the Poor Clares, a convent started by her aunts. Then Elliott comes from Elijah which means "my God is Yahweh" in Hebrew and since I'd started with the religious theme I thought I'd stick with it, plus my initials spell ACE and that's just fucking awesome.

"My legal name is Andrea Carson Emery; it spells ACE too and that's about the extent of my mother's parenting which says a lot. I hated her so fucking much. I don't want anything from her; the name she gave me included. So, do we know each other enough yet to have a normal conversation?"

"Not even close. I described how I was raped and abused by a sack of shit, you told me your fucking name. Tell me about your mom."

"Amy? God, even calling her mom makes me wanna puke. Well, she was a hooker and a shit mother. I have no fucking idea who my daddy is and I don't give a shit who the dickhead is anyway. Amy, ran away from home when she was 13, 'cause she was "in love", then had me two years later. She was a junkie, couldn't stay clean for shit, not even for her own goddamn child. Not like I'm much better; I'm addicted to crank, heroine, pot, alcohol, and ecstasy, thanks to mommy dearest. Monkey see monkey do, huh? I'm also rather fond of inhalants but I can't blame that one on Amy. I don't think I can ever quit." Mat's face transforms from a mask of sarcasm to one of disgust, in what Jack didn't know. "There are some sick fucks out there, Jackie, I don't need to tell you that. Amy knew too, so she used it to her advantage. S-she would-" BRRIING! "Damn, saved by the bell. Maybe later, Jackie."

"I'm gonna hold you to that, Ace." Mat grins up at Jack, _He gets it._

************

**

* * *

**

**Mat**

Gym passed semi-painlessly, and Mat was already making her way down the cafeteria line with a tray full of burnt shit and moldy milk-yum! Mat's eyes scan the diverse high school crowd in search of Jack.

_Let's see: Jocks, Goths, Emos, Cheerleaders, Nerds, ah ha! _Passing a few giggling sluts and half a dozen gushing fan girls, Mat finally reached Jack's table and sat diagonal to the boy.

"Hey, Ace." God, she loved that name-Ace. "Guys this is Mat, Mat this is Chris, Drew, Ronnie, and Jordan, my band mates." There was a mixture of hey's, whats up's, nods, and grins in her direction.

"So, are you coming to our gig?" The guy she assumed was Ronnie was tall and well built with dark hair and bright eyes; the gene pool had definitely been good to him. With looks like that and a deep, sensual voice, he had to be the front man for the Spares.

"Yeah, of course." Mat tried to lay back and get a feel for the guys before she got to comfortable.

"Sweet! This is only our third gig-we just started-and we don't have many fans, yet. Your friend, here-" Drew motions across the table to Jack. "-has been scaring all the ladies a way." Drew seemed like a good guy that just loved to joke and have fun. He looked a little more punk rock than the others who simply looked desheaveled.

"Fuck no! Girls love a guitar player, especially a fuck up. They like to think they can fix me or some shit like that by showing me 'true love and affection.' I don't care what they call it as long as I get some fucking pussy. Chicks don't fuck bass players unless the singer and guitar players are all ready taken."

"Why don't we ask Mat? Guitar or bass, Sweetheart?" Ronnie interjects, shifting his gaze from the bickering boys to Mat. Sweetheart? Ronnie was a sweat talker-definatly the lead singer.

"Hm, well, bass players do have big hands, and you know what big hands mean. But guitars do more on stage and, Jack's right, a fucked up guy is hot as hell." Mat took a bite of her cheeseburger and mulled over the two choices, silently debating the pros and cons. "Sorry, Jackie, but I'm gonna have to go with big hands on this one"

"Did you hear that, Mercer? The bass is hotter. Hell fucking yes!" Drew jumps out of his seat, throwing his hands triumphantly in the air.

"Sit your ass down, dumb shit."Chris pulls Drew to his vacant seat with one hand. He's thicker than the others; not fat but just a little squishy with a shitload of strength in those muscles. He's tall and was the only one with short hair. _Drummer, I suppose._

"Y'all are such stupid fucks. All y'all can talk about is banging girls. Can't you see we have a lady at the table?" Jordan had a bit of a country twang in his voice, from Tennesse or Kentucky perhaps. He has long, black hair and a genuine smile spread from ear to ear.

_Damn it, I like these boys._

**********

* * *

**

Mat pushed open the heavy oak door and began soaking in her surroundings. Smoke, the sweet scent of marijuana, Budweiser, and musk tickled her nose as she was swallowed up by the sweaty, buzzed crowd. To the left of the door mat had just entered was a stage set up with drums, three microphones, and two amps on either side of the drums. A punk band steps out and a 19 year old with a baby Mohawk and fingerless, skeleton gloves takes the center mic, "We are The Forgotten!" The Forgotten jumped into an insane guitar riff then lyrics about teen angst flew over the crowd. Girls too drunk to see straight hurried to the stage dragging along some horny bastard.

Turning away from The Forgotten, Mat navigated her way through the crowd until her hands felt the cool grain of the bar. Whiskey and vodka mingle in Mat's nostrils and an over whelming sense of security washes over standard drink since arriving a Seton was vodka; it gets the job done without leaving any noticeable evidence for the nuns. _Damn, I need a real drink. Fuck it._

Mat flags down the bartender, "One Flaming Dr. Pepper."

The burly man's ice blue eyes glance up and down her body, with his head cocked to the left and one brow raised he responses, "Aren't you a little young to be in a bar?"

"Do you honestly give a shit about my age?"

He checks Mat out again then whips out a shot glass, mixing in Amaretto and a little bit of bourbon. The bartender lights the shot glass and an intoxicating blue flame slowly burns. As Mat downs the liquid fire, that weak and pathetic drunk she left locked inside escapes her rusted cage and breaks down Mat's fragile will power. An uncquenchable thirst is awakened within and Mat orders three more shots and two glasses of bourbon. Mat is sipping her way through her scotch when the Spares take the stage.

Jack doesn't hesitate for introductions, instead dives into a kick ass guitar solo soon joined by Chris, Drew, then Jordan. Ronnie's smooth voice sang the generic rockstar lyrics all about girls with big ole boobies and legs spread wide open. Despite the lack of originality in the lyrics, the music is amazing and the Spares receive a whirlwind of encouragement. The bar is full of screaming girls, half-assed, drunken attempts at singing along, bodies flinging into one another, and a girl that reminded Mat of the girl from the song lifted up her crimson beater and removed the tanned index finger dangling from her mouth to blow Jack a kiss. _I swear to God, if she had walked in with a bra on, then it would be slung across Jackie's shoulders by now._

Mat ordered two shots of tequila then leaned back on the stained oak bar to watch Jack thrust his heart and soul into the next song. Jack was standing to the right of Ronnie with his foot on the amp in front of him, banging his head as his fingers dance across the strings. the music that blared out of the amp wasn't the amateur clash of a kid trying to show off, but the experienced melody of a passionate artist. He was amazing.

**************

* * *

**

Jack

Jack played the last few notes of their final song for the night then took off the guitar slung across his shoulder. Jack squints into the bright lights to see a curvaceous shilouette strut in his direction. She got close enough for Jack to make out long blond hair, three inch heels, and a gorgeous pair of double D's. The mystery girl presses her body against Jack's and gazes up at him with sultry green eyes.

"I'm Destiny."

"I bet you are." Jack places his right hand low on Destiny's back, three of his fingers brushing her ass, and held her tighter. "Jack." He stuck Sasha out to block Drew's exit off stage. A mischievous grin spreads across Drew's face and he takes the extended guitar, but not without a few lewd gestures.

Jack's other arm snakes around Destiny's waist and, with a seductive lick of her lips, "Wanna go some where a little more private?"

"Lead the way." With Jack's right arm still wrapped around Destiny's waist, they exit through the back into the alleyway.

Jack pushes Destiny against the brick wall and places both of his hands on either side of Destiny's head as her lips seek out Jack's in the dark. Their mouths mesh together and their tongues collide. Jack's hands slide of the wall and onto the warm body in front of him, exploring all her curves. Destiny weaves her manicured hand through Jack's sweaty blond hair. Jack tugs at the thin red cloth and he slips them beneath feeling her smooth stomach. Jack ventures further north and a small moan escapes her lips, which move down to Jack's neck. She kisses a line down his throat then glides her tongue up to Jack's ear lobe.

"I'm gonna make you love me in fifteen minutes-" Destiny's hand moves to the place between Jack's thighs. "-or less."

Destiny slides her hands down Jack's body as she gets on her knees...

* * *

**Mat**

Mat watches as Jack enters the building with the blond girl on his arm. She gives him a deep kiss then murmurs something in his ear that conjures a devious grin from Jack. He replies, gives her another kiss then stares after her as she walks away. Jack wanders to the bar with that stupid smirk still on his face. _Asshole._

"So, Jackie poo, how was your groupie whore?" Mat swallows a gulp of beer. "God, that's disgusting." She takes another swig and hands the bottle to Jack who does the same.

"Amazing." Another long drink.

"Hey, Frankie. Frank!"

The bartender makes his way towards Mat. "What can I get ya now, hon?"

"Two glasses of Jack; one for me and one for Jackie poo." Mat slurs, punctuating her words with drunken laughter.

"Babe, I'm not giving you anymore booze. You're too fucked up, I don't need that on my conscience." Frank turns to Jack. "Walk her home."

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**I know this was long over due but I think I did a damn good job. I'm excited about this story, I have big plans for future chapters-hella drama. So please review and if you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them. Also, thanks to TearsXsolitude for reading and reviewing!**


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